


My Lamb (Hannibal Lecter x reader)

by LannisterJester



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris, Silence of the Lambs - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, F/M, Falling In Love, Horror, Love, Love Confessions, Lust, Murder, Mystery, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Psychological Horror, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LannisterJester/pseuds/LannisterJester
Summary: "Well Y/n....have the lambs stop screaming?"-----------------------------------------------------------------I do not own the Silence of The lambs nor do I own any of its characters/plot.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter & Reader, Hannibal Lecter/Reader
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

Sweat formed on my face as I panted, losing breath the more I run away from the calls and furious shouts of my uncle. The animals I had set free from the barn are following eagerly after my small form. They wanted the freedom that they had been granted by me. 

Their little bleats sounded like screams in my ears, the bells attached to their little collars chimed noisily, all of them ringing at different times as they run. I could hear the ranch hands running after them and me. 

Most of the lambs had been caught but I managed to scoop a little one up that had been clumsily running away. It was a female one and I decided to keep her tucked against my chest, trying to provide her warmth as I continued to run. 

The night air was cold on my skin despite me wearing the heavy jacket I had thrown on in the dark of my room. The images I saw in the barn kept flashing to the forefront of my mind. The thickness of the baby's blood, the terrible screams of the lambs as the cleaver was brought down on the helpless animal. 

I hated it here now and I couldn't stand going back to that terrible place. The grass brushed against the edge of my nightgown, it had surprised me that I was able to run in it. 

I thought for sure by now I would have tripped on it but my determined feet didn't let me. I look down at the lamb I had saved rather than at the stretch of road in front of me. Her eyes were open wide, her nostrils fluttering with sharp intakes of air as she looked up at me wildly. She is terrified and yet so innocent. A name popped up in my head for her... 

A hand gripped the back of my hood that played against my back. I screamed as I was pulled backwards by it, holding tightly onto Hannah so she wouldn't be dropped. The furious face of my uncle appeared above me as I struggled to get out of his grasp, tears falling down my face. 

I had never seen him so angry but I found myself not caring if I had made him angry. 

"LET ME GO LET ME GO!" 

My uncle didn't listen to my demands as he started to march us back to his farmhouse. 

"You little brat! I took you in and this is how you repay me? You made me lose half the damned livestock!" 

He looked down at the lamb and my hands and made the move to take her away from me. 

"Don't you touch her," I bellowed fitfully, "You touch this lamb and I will run again before you could even blink!" 

My uncle huffed and pulled back his hands, a glare on his face, "Fine, keep the damn lamb, it's too skinny anyway."

He didn't want to be chasing the little orphan brat around in the dark again, no sir. I looked down at Hannah happily as tears still ran down my face. We were far away from the road and back on his farm again. 

"When morning comes," He told me as we walked by the farmhands that were still shoving the lambs that they had rounded up back into their pens," You will no longer be here and you can be the orphanage's problem."

"That's fine," I muttered as I started to lightly pet Hannah's head which made her eyes close while her body wracked with shivers," because I know you never liked me or my father much anyways. You only did this for my mother and now she's gone too."


	2. Favor for Jack Crawford

My hair swung back and forth in its ponytail as I slowly breathed in and out of my nose. My hands are raised by my stomach, clenched in fists as my feet surge forward, each step hitting the dirt on the path of the training course. 

The woods around me were small and easily navigatable so no one would be able to get lost or take a wrong turn. It was peaceful running the course this time because it was mid-morning. No one but me was running the course. 

Some of the other agents in training believed I run the course to get on good terms with our instructors but I honestly did it to get my body and mind awake so that I would be ready for whatever challenges my FBI training will throw my way. As I pass the sign that reads, 'Hurt Agony Pain Love It' I know I am close to the end of the course now. 

I focus on the leaves that crunch below my feet, not noticing an FBI agent near the end walking towards me. 

"Y/l/n!" I hear someone shout and I look up to see a male FBI agent waiting for me to finish. 

He's an important messenger agent but I am not sure what his name is. 

"I'm trainee Y/l/n, what's the problem, sir?" I ask as I approach him with confusion on my face. 

No one usually talks or takes notice of me. Sure, I know they whisper about me due to the fact I am a woman wanting to join the FBI. Not many women do nowadays, most work as secretaries even if they do get in. Men at the academy think women are too emotional to do the kind of work the FBI does on a day to day basis. 

I thought their opinions about that were bullshit and was hoping to change their minds but I also knew not to push myself out there too much. 

The agent remained straight-faced," Crawford wants to see you in his office."

"Will I be able to change?" I ask grimly looking down at my sweaty exercise clothes. 

They stuck to my skin which made me feel uncomfortable and they probably smelled too. I wasn't ready to meet the boss yet and what if this meeting isn't a good one....is he going to kick me out of the academy for something? I began to worry. 

The agent shakes his head no," He said it was urgent and to come directly to him."

I bite my tounge and inhale sharply with a nod of understanding before muttering, "Thank you, sir."

The walk to the FBI's actual offices in Quantico only took a few minutes. The building was tall and looked over everyone that passed it. When I walked inside the outer office it was empty. Slightly annoyed I fixed my appearance in the reflection of the glass of one of the many windows inside of the building. When I pushed past the doors after finding my appearance somewhat suitable, the first thing I noticed was Crawford standing in the cramped aisle of all the desks, using someone else's phone, talking quietly into its receiver. 

I remembered him differently than what he looked like now. He had looked well fit, young like a college boy who had earned a scholarship playing for a university baseball team. 

Now, the man was not doing as well as he did so many years ago. He looked tired, worn down like an old car that had been running too long. His shirt was too big for his skinny frame and hung loosely around him.

His eyes looked tired and red from being rubbed too many times by his hands. Bags had appeared under his eyes, not too noticeable but noticeable enough to know that he had not been getting that much sleep. 

The job was taking a toll on him and no one could blame him. It was common knowledge that working at the Behavioral science section of the FBI was and could be hell. 

The conversation on the phone ended and I could see that under his arm was my file. He glanced at me and then pulled the file from underneath his arm. He opened it as he sat down behind his desk.

"Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n. Good morning," He said. 

"Morning, Mr. Crawford," I respond with a polite smile, trying to hide the worry on my face. 

"Nothing's wrong. I hope the agent I sent didn't spook you with the message," He reassures me. 

"No, the agent didn't scare me," I respond knowing in the back of my mind that what I said wasn't entirely true. 

"Your instructors tell me you're doing well, the top quarter of your class." 

"I hope so," I remark quietly a small smile appearing on my face," They haven't posted any grades yet."

"I ask them from time to time," He replies offhandedly towards my response. 

This came to me as a shock. Most of the instructors and directors didn't pay attention to the ranks of the class until it was more close to graduating time. I thought that Crawford would be the same. 

"A job's come up and I thought about you," He cleared his throat and corrected himself, "Not a job, really. More of an interesting errand. Push Berry's stuff off that chair there and sit down." 

I complied and did what he said. 

"You put down in your file that after graduating the academy that you would like to work here at Behavioral science," His tone was strictly business. 

"Yes sir."

"You have a lot of forensics, but no law enforcement background. We look for six years, minimum." 

Painful memories come to me but I push my emotions away. 

"My father was a marshal for our town, I know the police life," I explain. 

I see Crawford smile a little before it's gone, "What you do have is a double major in psych and criminology, and how many summers at a mental health hospital? " He goes to find the answer in my file. 

"Two," I answer for him. 

"Your counselor's license is current, correct?" 

I nod my head," It's good for two more years. I got it before you had your seminar at the university of y/u/n. 

"I remember you from my seminar there. You grilled me pretty hard, as I recall, on the Bureau's civil rights record in the Hoover years. I gave you an A," Crawford recalls the memory. 

"A-minus, sir," I correct him with a smile. 

"Do you know what VI-CAP is?" He questions suddenly. 

I straighten in my seat," I know it's the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, The Law Enforcement Bulletin says you're working on a database but it's not operational yet."

Crawford nods his head at my words, "We've developed a questionnaire that applies to all the known serial murderers of modern time."

Crawford picks up a packet and hands it to me gently. It's thick in my hands and the binding wasn't done well, it was flimsy. Questions and lines filled the pages, some of the words in different colors. 

"There's a section for investigators and one for surviving victims if there is any. The blue is for the killer to answer if he or she wishes and the pink is a series of questions an examiner asks the killer. It's a lot of paperwork."

My hope deflated in my chest. I thought for sure this would be an opportunity. Now it felt as though Crawford was going to offer me a job working on feeding raw data to a new computer system like some secretary which was the opposite of what I wanted. Sure, it would mean I would have a job at the Behavioral science center but I would never be taken seriously as a secretary. A choice was coming and my decision had to be a good one. 

"What tests have you given? Minnesota Multiphasic, ever Rorschach?"

"The MMPI but never Rorschach. I've also done Thematic Apperception and have given children Bender-Gestalt," I respond quickly to his question. 

Crawford looks up from my file, placing it onto the desk calmly.

"Do you spook easily, Y/l/n?" He asks with kind curiosity. 

"Not yet, sir," I state honestly. 

Crawford takes a deep breath in, "We're interviewing all known thirty-two serial killers that are now in custody for a psycho-behavioral profile which could be a real help in unsolved cases. Twenty-seven of them have been happy to talk to us, driven to show off. Four were on death row and they clammed up which is understandable. The one we want most refuses to cooperate. I want you to go after him again tomorrow in the asylum."

I felt a strange sense of excitement and dread run up my spine. 

"Who's the subject?" I ask Crawford. 

Crawford inhales softly, "The psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter."

A small silence passes as the information sinks into my head. 

"Hannibal the Cannibal," I look steadily at Crawford but felt as though everything was still. 

"I don't expect him to talk to you," Crawford informs me with a frown, "Others we've sent have been unsuccessful but I have to be able to say we tried. If he won't cooperate, I want just straight reporting. How does he look? How does his cell look? ls he sketching, drawing? If he is, what's he sketching?" 

I nod my head as Crawford gathers some things from his desks and hands them to me. One is a file and the other object appears to some sort of wallet. 

"Here's a dossier on Lecter and a special ID for you. Have your memo on my desk by 0900 Sunday, ok Y/l/n?" Crawford informs me offering a small smile even though his eyes looked dead. 

I open the ID card and my straight face is looking up at me. I never notice how cold I look when I don't smile. I look away from the badge and papers in my lap. I just had one question from my supervisor. 

"Excuse me, sir, but why the urgency?"

When Crawford shoots me a questioning look I explain myself further, "Lecter's been in prison for so many years. Is there some connection between him and Buffalo Bill maybe?"

My eyes drift away from Crawford as I look at the bulletin board filled with newspaper articles and crime scene photos. 

Those poor girls. 

Crawfords eyes sparkled as his lips curled into a straight line. 

"I wish there were," He murmured with a sigh before regaining his tough posture, "Now, I want your full attention, Y/l/n." 

"Yes, sir?" I ask looking away from the bulletin board. 

"Be very careful with Hannibal Lecter," He warns, "Dr. Chilton at the asylum will go over all the physical procedures used with him. Do not deviate from them for any reason whatsoever. You're to tell him nothing personal. Believe me, you don't want Hannibal Lecter inside your head. Just do your job, but never forget what he is." 

"And what is that?" I ask him softly.


	3. Dr. Chilton

"Oh, he's a monster," Dr. Chilton states with a tobacco stained grin, "A pure psychopath." 

The man that sat a the cleared desk in front of me was the head administrator at the asylum. He was the one, unfortunately, to be in charge of Dr. Lecter's care in the mental health hospital. 

I remember Crawford saying that Chilton and his patient do not get along after Hannibal had written to a few magazines about Chilton's true behavior towards the cannibal and other patients. 

The drive to the hospital hadn't taken as long as I had thought it would. It was quite boring on the way up to the asylum. The radio was kept off since every station was only static and jumbled lyrics of songs. 

When I had gotten inside of the dreary building I had been lead to Dr. Chilton's office quickly by a secretary who had been rude towards me. 

"So rare to capture one alive," Chilton continues to ramble, "From a research point of view, Lecter is our most prized asset."

The doctor pauses and I can see his eyes start trailing along my figure as if he just realized that I am a female instead of a male. 

"We get a lot of detectives here, but I can't ever remember one as attractive," He murmured, the grin staying on his face making me uncomfortable," Will you be in Baltimore overnight? Because this can be quite a fun town if you have the right guide."

I looked away from Chilton, trying to hide the disgust that threatened to appear on my face. When I turned my head to look at him again, I knew that he had seen the distaste. 

I plastered a fake smile on my face and gritted my teeth together, "I'm sure this is a great town, Dr. Chilton, but my instructions are to talk to Dr. Lecter and report back this afternoon."

The doctor sighs and stands up from his desk while checking the time on his watch, "I see. Well, let's make this quick, I have lunch in half an hour."

"Dr. Chilton," I huff suddenly feeling angry at the inpatient and rude doctor before me, "I was told that you choose the time and day for this appointment so you knew I was coming. I was also told that you would debrief me here, any extra information about Lecter will help me with my questions." 

"I doubt that," Chilton said carelessly and started to walk out of his office. 

Feeling snubbed I followed after the doctor immediately. 

"We've tried to study him," Chilton explains as we start to walk down a long corridor together," but he's much too sophisticated for the standard tests. Oh, my, does he hate us! He thinks I'm his nemesis," Chilton snorts. 

He pushes open a door and I follow after him seeing that it leads to a series of staircases. We descend the stairs together. 

"Crawford's very clever, isn't he, using you?" The doctor asks with a click of his tongue. 

"What do you mean, sir?" I ask him tiredly. 

"A pretty, young woman to turn him on. I don't believe Lecter's seen a woman in eight years. And are you ever his taste!" 

He chuckled and glanced down at me, "So to speak." 

"I graduated from Y/U/N, Doctor. It's not a charm school," I spoke up for myself ready to be away from him. 

"Good. Then you should be able to remember the rules," Chilton mutters as we get lead unto a different section of the asylum. 

We approach a set of metal bars And I noticed the brick walls were painted white. It felt colder down here, less welcoming. 

"Do not touch or approach the glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper. No pencils or pens. No staples or paperclips in his paper. Use the sliding food carrier. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand, sir," I reply in a serious tone. 

We had passed through to more metal gates which caused the natural light to no longer reach us. We were beyond the wards that allowed inmates to mix. This region of the hospital allowed no windows and no mixing. The overhead lights were covered in heavy grids like the ones in the engine rooms on ships. Dr. Chilton stopped underneath one of the lights and as our footfalls fell silent I was able to hear the sound of a ragged voice beyond the walls. 

It had been turned hoarse from shouting too much. 

"Hannibal Lecter is never let out of his cell without restraints or a mouthpiece," He said, "I'm going to show you why we insist on such precautions."

From his pocket, Dr. Chilton pulled out a photograph. 

"On July 8, 1976," Chilton began to explain," he complained of chest pains and was taken to the dispensary. His restraints were removed for an EKG. When the nurse leaned over him, he did this to her."

Chilton handed the dog-eared photograph to me. I made no reaction at the picture as Chilton continued to speak, "The doctors managed to reset her jaw, more or less, save one of her eyes. His pulse never got above even when he ate her tongue. "

I didn't know which was worse for me. The picture or Chilton's grabby eyes leering at me. He reminded me of a chicken pecking at humans' tears as they ran down their faces. 

"I keep him in here," Chilton informs me blandly as he pushes a button beside heavy double doors of security glass.

An orderly let us into the block beyond and I feel the need to speak.

"Dr. Chilton," I began without hesitation," If Lecter feels that you're his enemy, then maybe we'll have more luck if I go in by myself. What do you think?" 

I see his cheek twitch in annoyance, "You might have suggested this in my office and saved me the time." 

"I would have suggested it there if you briefed me there, sir," I retort back. 

"I don't expect to see you again Miss Y/l/n. Barney when she's finished with Lecter, bring her out."

Chilton left without sparing another glance in my direction and I felt myself relax slightly as I watched him go. Now it was only the orderly, Barney I believe is his name, and I left in the room. A clock behind Barney's head clicked soundlessly and was placed by a cabinet that had mace, restraints, a mouthpiece, and a tranquilizer gun inside of it. 

A rack attached to the wall held a long pipe device with a u at the end of it so that it would hold violent patients up against the wall to control them. The orderly watched as I took the details of the room in. 

"He told you, don't get near the glass?" The orderly asked politely. 

I nodded my head, "Yes, he did, I'm Y/n Y/l/n."

We shook each other's hands briefly, "Nice to meet you, Y/n," The orderly replied. 

We let go of each other's hand and he gestures beside the door towards a hook.

"You can hang your coat up there if you like," He suggests kindly and I take him up on his offer. 

"Thank you," I murmur while placing my coat onto the hook. 

"He's past the others, the last cell on the right. Keep towards the middle of the corridor and don't mind anything. Here's his mail, I figured you should bring it to him, you know, get off on the right foot," Barney seems slightly amused by this," You just put it into the tray and let it roll through. If the trays inside you can pull it back with a cord or he can send it back. He can't reach you where the tray stops outside."

After his explanation, Barney handed me two magazines that have their pages spilling out, three newspapers, and several opened letters. 

"Thank you," I whisper and turn to face where the door will open after Barney lets me through. 

Barney smiles at me, easing my nerves, "I'll be watchin'. You'll do fine."

The door opens for me and I start to walk down the hallway. It looked about thirty yards long and had cells lining only one side. Some of the cells were padded with an observation window attached to the doors while other cells were like normal prison cells with a wall of bars facing the corridor. I knew people were moving around in the cells and I tried to ignore them. 

"Hi," One man murmurs towards me as he leaned his face against the bars to get a closer look at me. 

"I can smell your cunt!" Another hissed at me in the next cell, crawling along the bars as I continued to walk, not looking towards him. 

The only cell that had lights on was the last one and as I approached it, getting closer and closer, I moved towards the left side of the corridor to peer inside, knowing that the heels on my feet had announced my presence to him already.


	4. Hannibal the Cannibal

I step into the view of the cell and turned to face it fully. I made sure to keep a good distance away from the glass as my eyes meet the reddish maroon eyes of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. 

He was a good looking man dressed in a blue patient's uniform. His hair was slicked back and he looked fairly well kept for a man who has been locked up in a cell. 

The walls inside of the cell were covered in charcoal and pencil drawings, each done with an artistic hand. A bed was cemented to the ground and was tucked away in one of the corners. There also was a sink and toilet attached to the walls. 

A desk was included in the cell as well and on top of it sat unfinished drawings and blank papers with some stumps of charcoal. 

The doctor smiled at me slowly once I focused back on him. 

"Good morning," He said as though he had been answering the front door to his home. 

I smile back at him, Crawford had said to show him no fear. 

"Dr. Lecter, my name is Y/n Y/l/n," I introduce myself calmly, "May I speak with you? "

"You're one of Jack Crawford's, aren't you?" He questions me. 

"I am, yes," I state with a nod. 

The doctor hums, "May I see your credentials?" 

I didn't know how to respond since I hadn't expected him to ask me that. I was hesitant to slide it through the tray because it was made out of a small hard plastic that could become a potential weapon for him to use if I displeased him in any way. 

"I...I showed my credentials to Dr. Chilton in his office," I inform Lecter, choosing my words carefully. 

Lecter seemed amused by my response, "Did you see his credentials?"

"No," I answer meekly and I hated  
how my voice sounded like a confused child. 

"The academic ones don't make extensive reading, I can tell you."

My lips twitch at his comment, a small laugh threatening to escape but I held it in as Lecter continued to speak. 

"Did you meet his secretary? A charming woman isn't she?" He smirks," Which of them would you rather spend time with?"

"From what I experienced, the Secretary would be better," I answer truthfully and shiver slightly when I remember Chilton's creepy eyes. 

Lecter's eyes sparkled with something as his lips pulled into a straight line, "Still, you could be a reporter Chilton let in for money. I think I am entitled to look at your credentials."

He did have a good point about that.

I heard from Crawford that Chilton had done that before, let certain people see the Dr. Lecter after paying their fair share to be let in. 

"All right," I responded and pulled my temporary ID card out of the purse I had carried in with me. 

I hold it up in front of the glass still keeping the right distance between us. 

He frowns, "I can't read that from here, send it through please." 

"I can't Dr. Lecter."

"Because it's hard?" He asks quietly and I nod. 

"Ask Barney if it's okay."

The orderly's footsteps were heard coming down the hall. I guess he was listening to the conversation. I gently passed him my credentials and Barney considered sending it through. 

He lifted his eyes to look at the cannibal," Dr. Lecter, I'll let this come through the tray but if you don't return it when Agent Y/l/n asks you too then I'll be upset. If you upset me, you'll have to stay bundled up until we're cool again. Dr. Chilton will probably make me feed you through a tube and hold your mail for two weeks, got it?" 

"I understand Barney," Lecter responded. 

The orderly places the ID into the food carrier and sends it to the other side of the cell. Hannibal picks the badge I had been given and holds it up to the light in his cell. He glances over the details and lifts the badge to his nose. I feel my cheeks get heated as he closes his eyes and inhales the scents on my badge. 

"Dr. Lecter," Barney warns causing Hannibal's eyes to open slowly. 

He pulls the badge away from his face, folds it, and pushes it back through the slot towards our side. Barney grabs it and hands it back to me. 

I nod my head as a thank you and slip the credentials back in my pocket. 

"Your credentials expire in one week. You're not real FBI, are you?" Hannibal asks with a smirk, one of his eyes sending me a quick wink. 

"I'm still in training at the academy," I correct him. 

Hannibal walked closer to the bars, looking intrigued, "Jack Crawford sent a trainee to me?" 

"Yes, I'm a student. I'm here to learn from you. Maybe you can decide whether or not I'm qualified enough to do that," I suggest as Barney's eyes flickered between me and the doctor. 

'That is rather slippery of you, Agent Y/l/n," His eyes slid to Barney who stood protectively by my side, "Barney do you think Agent Y/l/n might have a chair?" 

Barney looked at Hannibal conflicted," Dr. Chilton said nothing about a chair."

Lecter's eyes returned to looking at me.

"What do your manners tell you, Barney?" He asks the orderly patiently while eyeing me.

"Would you like a chair," Barney asked politely as he turned to look at me which allowed me to look away from the doctor. 

"We could have had one placed here already but- well nobody usually needs to stay that long," He explains before I answer. 

"Yes, thank you," I reply causing Barney to nod and move towards the closet behind us.

He opens the door and pulls out a fold-up chair from the darkness of the small room. He set it up for me and soon left us to be alone once again. 

"Now then, tell me. What did Miggs say to you?" 

Seeing my confused expression he explained himself to me further, "Multiple Miggs in the next cell. He hissed at you. What did he say?" 

I swallowed and looked off to the side before looking back at Hannibal. 

"He said "I can smell your cunt"," I confess to the doctor truthfully. 

"I see," Hannibal hummed," I myself cannot." 

He closes his eyes.

"You use Evyan skin cream and sometimes you wear L'Air du Temps," He recalls the scents that had been attached to my FBI ID. 

His eyes open and his expression almost looks like he's pouting, "But not today."

"Did you do all these drawings, Doctor?" I ask, turning the subject away from me but also feeling slightly curious about the artwork. 

I squint and point to one of them, "That, I believe, is the Duomo seen from the Belvedere."

Hannibal looked surprised," Do you know Florence?" 

"I know Da Vinci grew up near there and about some of the old buildings," I explain still looking at his drawings before my eyes slid to meet his, "Is all that detail just from memory, sir?" 

"Memory, Agent Y/l/n," The doctor sighs," is what I have instead of a view." 

I felt as though this would be a good time as any to bring up the questionnaire I had been demanded to give him. 

"Well, perhaps you'd care to lend us your view on this questionnaire, sir," I joked slightly as I pull the questionnaire out of my purse.

I hold it up so he could see it. 

Hannibal frowns and shakes his head, "Oh, no, no, no, no. You were doing fine. You had been courteous and receptive to courtesy. You had established trust, with the embarrassing truth about Miggs, and now this ham-handed segue into your questionnaire." 

He clicks his tongue as his eyes gleam darkly, "It won't do." 

"I'm only asking you to look at this," I state, "Either you will or you won't. 

"Yeah?" He taunts me," Jack Crawford must be very busy indeed if he's recruiting help from the student body. Busy hunting that new one, Buffalo Bill. What a naughty boy he is."

He smirks and tilts his head slightly," Do you know why he's called Buffalo Bill? Please tell me. The newspapers won't say."

I debate with myself if it would be appropriate or not to share this information but then decide to tell him anyway. 

"It started as a bad joke in Kansas City Homicide," I began to explain. 

"Yes?" He asked, eager to hear more. 

I smirk despite myself, "They said This one likes to skin his humps." 

I heard Hannibal chuckle before he grows serious again. 

"Why do you think he removes their skins, Agent Y/l/n? Thrill me with your acumen." 

"It excites him obviously," I state, "Most serial killers keep some sort of trophies from their victims. A ring, some hair, lipstick etcetera." 

Hannibal looked at me curiously, "I didn't." 

"No," I swallowed nervously as I agreed with him, "No, you are different because you ate yours." 

It becomes quiet between the both of us for a few seconds before his eyes glance at the packet I hold in my hands.

"You send that through now," He commands gently and I get up from the chair I had become comfy in. 

I open the tray, feeling his eyes on me, observing me. It felt different than when Chilton had watched me, it even felt different from the way Crawford looked at me. 

I set the papers in the tray and push it to his side. He picks the packet up as I go to sit back in my chair. Hannibal licks his index finger as he holds the papers in the other hand. He glances at me and smiles before glancing down at the packet, flipping through the pages. 

After reading some of the pages be stops abruptly and looks at me. He flashes a smile at me but it was fake. 

"Oh, Agent Y/l/n, you think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool?" He scoffs. 

"No. I thought that your knowledge-" I began to explain by he cuts me off. 

"-You're so ambitious, aren't you? Do you know what you look like, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube," He says with slight malice.

"A well-scrubbed, hustling rube, with a little taste. Good nutrition's given you the length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you?" He taunts and I felt myself become cold. 

"And that accent you've tried so desperately to shed: pure West Virginia? What is your father, dear? Is he a coal miner? Does he stink of the lamp?" He mocks me as though he knows everything about me. 

"How quickly the boys found you. All those tedious, sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars, while you could only dream of getting out, getting anywhere, getting all the way to the FBI," He whispers harshly making me hold back my tears. 

I blink them away as best as I could as I take a shaky breath in, a tight-lipped smile coming onto my face, "You see a lot, Doctor. But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself?"

He seems slightly shocked that I dare to throw back his technique at him, "What about it? Why don't you look at yourself and write down what you see?"

I pause and tilt my head at him noticing how his breathing had become quicker," Or maybe you're afraid to." 

Silence fell over us again before he slammed the tray slot on his door shut making me jump slightly. I got up from my seat and grabbed the papers of the questionnaire, shoving them back into my purse. 

Lecter grinned at my actions, "You're a tough one aren't you Y/l/n?" 

"Reasonably so," I responded truthfully as I sat down once again. 

"And you would hate to think you were common," He pointed out, "Wouldn't that sting? My! Well, you are far from common Agent Y/l/n. All you have is fear of it. Have you ever had a Valentine Agent Y/l/n?"

His question took me aback slightly but regardless I answered it.

"I haven't had a Valentine in a long time, Dr. Lecter." 

"We're already into lent. Valentine's day is only a week away, hmmmmm," He looked at me curiously," Are you expecting some?"

I shook my head with a sad chuckle, "Probably not." 

He listened to my answer and chuckles," I've been thinking about Valentine's day. It reminds me of something funny...now that I think about it, I could make you very happy on Valentine's day Y/n Y/l/n." 

I felt my body tense from the way my name sounded coming from his lips. 

"How Doctor?" I asked, trying to hide my breathlessness. 

"By sending you a wonderful Valentine...I'll have to think about it," He responded looking off to the side, "If you'll excuse me Agent Y/l/n, I'd like to be alone now."

"What about the study?" I ask him suddenly, choosing to forget about his promise to send me a valentine for now. 

"A census taker once tried to test me once," Lecter began to tell me, "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti."

He paused and leaned up against the glass, his hands pressing against the surface. He acted as though he was eating the census taker again making my stomach turn. He must have sensed my unease and pulled away from the glass. 

"You fly back to school now, little Y/l/n."

He turned his back on me and after a few seconds, I slowly stood from the chair. I picked up my purse and looked away from his turned back. 

"Fly, fly, fly," He whispered as I walked away from his cell. 

I didn't know how to feel about his words. I shook my head and remembered Crawford's words in a daze. 

Don't let him get into your head. 

As I walked in the middle of the hallway I heard skin slapping sounds coming from the cell next to Lecter's. 

Miggs laid on his bed, naked and when he heard me pass he mutters, "I bit my wrist so I can die."

"Look at the blood!" He exclaims throwing something at me which lands slightly on my face and hair. 

I gasp and almost throw up when I discover that it hadn't been blood that the crazy man threw at me, it was his semen. 

"Got ya!" Miggs cackles causing the other inmates who had witnessed the scene to get riled up. 

"Miggs, you stupid fuck!" One yelled. 

"Hannibal The Cannibal!" Another shouted with wide eyes. 

I stood against the wall as close as I could to get away from the cells. Tears started to gather in my eyes as I tried to get the disgusting liquid off of me. 

"AGENT Y/L/N," I heard Hannibal shout from his cell but I was too upset to walk back. 

I began to walk quickly down the hallway again to get away from this place. Before I could take anymore steps Hannibal's voice rang out again over all the noise caused by the other inmates stuck down here with him. 

"COME BACK! AGENT Y/L/N! Y/N!" There was something in his voice that made me stop and run back towards his cell, ignoring the shouting behind me. 

I pressed my body up against the wall of glass to where Lecter leans, forgetting about the distance we were supposed to have from one another. Hannibal's face had twisted up with disgust and anger burned in his eyes as his gaze roamed my flustered and panicked body. 

He could probably smell it on me. 

His eyes, which had gone a darker shade of maroon snap up to meet mine as he speaks. 

"I would not have had that happen to you. Discourtesy is unspeakably ugly," He mutters. 

"Then please do this for me," I ask him quietly through tears as I hold up the questionnaire. 

"No," He responds leaning further on the glass," but I'll give you a chance for what you want most." 

"And what is that?" 

"Advancement," He whispers as I start to calm down slightly. 

"Listen carefully," He instructs me as our eyes meet, "Look deep within yourself, Y/n Y/l/n. Go seek out Miss Mofet, an old patient of mine. That's M-O-F-E-T. I don't think Miggs could manage again so soon, even though he is crazy. Go now!" 

Without another glance I started to run away from his cell, heading towards the safety of the orderly's office.


End file.
